


some are still out seeking glory

by Ishvi



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DC Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-27 04:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8387875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishvi/pseuds/Ishvi
Summary: They all die in the end, perhaps humanity never deserved them because they sure never appreciated them. 
Clark comes back and Bruce can't do anything else except fall in love with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a short story about how the Codex affected Clark. Somehow it transformed in a story about superheroes dealing with mental illness with metaphors about Christianity and Jesus Christ/Judas parallels inspired by [this](http://moviepilot.com/posts/3838863) and [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6643468). I want to apologize if anyone feels offended by it, I mean no harm.
> 
> I want to thank [susiecarter](http://susiecarter.tumblr.com/), who is one of [my favorite writers](http://archiveofourown.org/users/susiecarter) and helped me with a scene. Also thanks to [ansilknomad](http://ansilknomad.tumblr.com/), who let me rant about Clark's eating habits.

And Superman didn’t fly again; he died, impaled by the cross that bore their sins, Judas’ kiss no longer on his cheek but on his chest. He would not come to their rescue anymore, their savior gone by their hand, and his tomb a mere empty coffin.

_They all die in the end, perhaps humanity never deserved them because they sure never appreciated them._

Bruce drank from his scotch as he watched Alfred working on his suit; he could hear the computer beeping behind him, signaling the process as done. He didn’t turn around. He knew what he would find, the words that would mock him, the sign of his failure.

(You are not enough. You have never been enough.)

“Master Bruce,” Alfred enquired. “The computer is—”

“Twenty years and they keep coming, it never stops,” Bruce interrupted.

“You said it before, pull out one and another one comes out. It will never be enough; you can’t get rid of the evil.” Bruce frowned as he walked to the table where the main computer was and put down the scotch, Alfred’s words leaving a bad taste in his tongue, and it was accentuated by the alcohol he shouldn’t be drinking. “As I said Bruce Wayne can do good, store the suit.”

“I can’t. I promised I would not fail him.”

“He’s dead Master Bruce.”

(You put him there. You don’t deserve to mourn him.)

“I already failed them. I can’t fail him too.”

 _Scattering pearls, gunshot, screams._ (Run, run, they’re gone.)

 _Breathlessness._ (He’s leaving; our beautiful son can’t stand it anymore.)

 _Laughter and desperation. It’s tickling._ (He took him, took him from us.)

Alfred didn’t answer him and turned his attention back to the suit. He had raised Bruce and knew how much he could push. He also could see the memories playing in Bruce’s mind, the loss he suffered, and the disappointment, he felt he caused. Alfred felt sadness once again for the young boy that lost too much and life made grow up fast. A boy made of broken pieces patched wrongly. Life was not easy, or forgiving, they both knew it.

Bruce sat in front of the computer, conversation already put in the back of his mind, he knew better than linger on the past. He looked at the files spread on the screen, the compiled information about the metahumans Luthor had plus the information he gathered about them, Diana wanted it organized. He skimmed through it, watching for any errors. He didn’t want Diana breathing down on him; he preferred not to involve himself more since it wasn’t his place. He was a mere human, and not the special kind like the speedster or the human-robot. And he sure wasn’t a goddess.

(And what you promised? Or have you forgotten so quickly?

You left your kiss on his cheek and you built the spear that put him down. Your kisses are death and it doomed him, as you have doomed all you have touched.

Death hangs around you; they are an old friend of yours.)

.

It was dusk when Diana came; she wore her hair in a ponytail and a long blue coat, she didn’t look less like the goddess she was, a golden crown sat on her head and a beam of light illuminated her, it illuminated the whole room. Diana didn’t utter a word as she sat on the only chair near the computers; the other ones were pushed to the back. She stared at him, and he felt like he failed her in some way. He felt judged and unworthy.

Bruce walked the distance and rested against the table’s edge, he opened an encrypted folder that held three more folders. He knew why she came and what she wanted, but he would not be the first to cave, goddess or not.

“You have hidden enough.” Her voice left not room for an argument or a negation, and her gaze was cold and unwavering. “It’s time to start recruiting to make the League, and he will be the first to be contacted. It’s best to deal with the easy ones first,” she tapped her finger against the folder named _Flash_ , there was a photo of a brown eyed young man, his black hair tied in a ponytail and a mole on his right cheek.

“I’m not ready.”

“You were the one that told me we would need to fight, that we would need to be ready for what Luthor called out there. You don’t get to back out now.” The crown flared at her words then disappeared. She was fierce, a sight to behold. “You owe him. It’s your duty to help the world he sacrificed himself for.”

One thing was clear; Diana didn’t hold back her punches. She was a warrior, one ready to defend her ideals and fight at any moment if necessary.

(Yet, you enjoy riling her up. It makes you feel powerful; you took on God and it wasn’t enough, now you want to take on another.

Remember, Death can’t always protect you.)

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Bruce,” she whispered exasperated, but it sounded more like she said _child_ derisively. “Do not play with me. I haven’t walked this Earth as long as I have to play games with you, and not when something important is at stake.” The beam of light grew, encompassing her and he knew he would never win, not against this beautiful and divine being. He wasn’t worthy.

“I will contact him in the next few days,” he commented, ignoring the previous subject, she smirked but let it drop. “Then this one,” he pointed to the other folder, the one marked _Cyborg_ , a young black man with a Gotham’s University jacket and cropped hair appeared. “The underwater being will be the hardest one; I’ll have to wait until winter, he appears aggressive and will not be easy to work with.”

Diana drummed her fingers against the table and hummed as the last folder opened, the one marked _Aquaman_ , a tall and burly man with long brown hair and beard appeared, the mix of white and blue colors in his eyes only accentuated his exotic appearance.

“First, we will concentrate on gathering them and bringing them on board, later we will deal with team unity and how we want his League to appear.” Diana smiled; it softened her face and gave her a fond look. “You will do Bruce. Do not worry.”

Bruce didn’t utter a word at her confidence, only stared at her as she patted him on the shoulder, then stood up, her feet never making a sound as she walked towards the stairs that led to the house, he stared until he could no longer see her and wondered if he would find her there or she would disappear once more.

Bruce also wondered, as he gazed to the back of the room, if she would let him examine her, he would only need an example of her flesh and blood, and he could find the wonders that were behind her being.

(And why do you need it? You are a mere human, you do not deserve to touch the flesh of a Goddess, nor do you deserve her blood. He was not enough?)

Alfred appeared from the stairs where Diana had previously left, he put down the tray he carried.

“Master Wayne, it’s advisable to stop being difficult. She can see though your act.”

“You didn’t hear us.”

“I didn’t have to.”

.

Barry Allen wasn’t difficult to find, he had a predictable timetable. He worked all day then went to his rented basement where he stored his suit then went back to his apartment to sleep. Hacking his security wasn’t difficult either, at least not to him. As he entered he observed around, taking in the computers that monitored Allen’s vitals and projected the necessary information, he took in the graffiti on the walls, the hardly arranged tables and the mess on them, tons of paper scattered around, and finally, a red suit on the back of the room but other thing was the one that called his attention. Behind the suit there was a board with various drawings, and one of them was… his symbol, the symbol of hope, red and gold, like Allen’s suit.

(You were blind, consumed by your hate, but others were not. He was hope, he was light.)

Bruce closed his eyes and inhaled, looking to calm himself. He exhaled as he unclenched his fists and walked to one of the chairs, the farthest one from the suit, and sat. He hadn’t taken his pills today, and he already felt Alfred staring at him all the way from the lake house.

Barry Allen came at eight o’clock, as expected, humming to himself and swinging his bag around; he turned on the lights in the basement and gasped at the sight of a strange man sitting in one of his chairs, mind calculating the outcomes.

“Barry Allen. I’m Bruce Wayne.”

“You are mistaken, I’m not Mr. Allen. I was hired to clean, but I haven’t seen Mr. Allen before.” Bruce arched his eyebrow, Allen wasn’t a great liar and his face was an open book. It was a surprise he hadn’t been discovered by more people.

“Spare me the excuses.” Bruce stood up and walked towards Barry, throwing a batarang at him on the way. To him it was only a second, but Bruce could see that Barry had already gone through all the possibilities when he gasped Batman and stared at him disbelieving, batarang in hand. “Evil is coming, ther—”

“I’m in.” Barry interrupted, giddy with excitement. Bruce looked at him, eyebrow raised, nothing good came easy. “I— I need friends.”

Bruce chose to not comment on it, he just nodded. He saw the coldness crawling inside Barry’s bones, the loneliness creeping around his eyes, the empty bottles of pills tossed on the floor, he knew about it, he understood the isolation no-chosen but made, and the need to be greater than their bodies, because if they were greater, the darkness would not dare to swallow them.

“I will be in touch,” Bruce replied as he walked towards the entry. He needed to get out, red and gold swam around the edges of his vision, it got harder not to think about him, and he didn’t want to, not now. It was not safe. “And you can’t keep it.” Bruce took the batarang from Bruce’s hand stored it inside his suit.

Once he was out he inhaled deeply, this kid hit close to home.

.

Bruce didn’t have to go looking for Victor Stone, one night he came to Batman while he was out patrolling, black shadows hid most of his large frame as he stood in the back of dark alleyway. Batman didn’t move from his position on the edge of one of building windows. He only stared at the young man until he talked.

“They are coming.” Victor didn’t need to explain about what he was referring to, he watched Luthor’s footage and examined it, he knew this young man was connected to something bigger than what mankind knew, bigger than what they could process. “I will help when the time comes. No sooner, not later.”

Batman knew a dismissal when he heard one, but it wasn’t needed, he had to be somewhere else, he already could hear the screams. Gotham needed him. Batman left via grapple, not looking back to see the man.

Later, in the solace of his cave, with only the computers’ sounds as his company, Bruce wondered if the kid would want to talk about the fox he saw in the footage, the one that gave him his life back, it was obvious the box was not from Earth and he had to know how it got here. He also had to know the basics of it, what could they gain from the box, and what could they lose to the box. Nothing alien came without consequences.

(Leave the disciple alone. Didn’t you learn your lesson? There is no place for you among his group. You made sure of that.)

.

Arthur Curry was the biggest challenge, he didn’t come to the land until winter came around, and he fed the poor and the hungry then went back to wherever he came from.

(A devotee, he does good deeds even if his Lord is dead, not like you heretic, you don’t get to ask for redemption.)

Bruce waited until winter, meanwhile he made contingencies for each of the members of the League, even if they didn’t want to be part, they needed to be contained if everything came to worst. Alfred didn’t agree with it, only shook his head and sighed; he wondered why the young man never learned.

When winter came around, he drove to the small town he had pinpointed as the town that Curry chose; it was far away from any city, near the ocean. It was an especially cold winter day, people were huddled together, they wore long coats and gloves, and snow fell painting the whole town white.

Bruce knew better than to ask around about the man that came during the King’s tide, people from small towns didn’t like it when strangers wandered their streets and asked about their secrets, they didn’t want to anger the persons they got help from, or worse, they feared the government could come for them.

He drove straight to the small cottage near the ocean, it looked like a pub from the outside, made like that to fool strangers if they ever dared to come. He parked outside and walked the distance left, he already heard the voices and felt the stares, he knew he had not gone unnoticed. He didn’t knock the small wooden door; he just opened the door and went in. As soon as he entered the locals turned around with a determined expression, from old to young, everyone in the small village benefited from Curry and they would defend him from a stranger.

“I’m looking for a man, the one that brings fish every winter.” The younger ones looked around nervously, and the older ones turned serious, yet no one said a word. “It’s important that I see this man.”

“Talk and maybe you’ll get to leave alive.” Curry turned around from where he sat next to some of the man from the village, and walked towards Bruce, his stance was aggressive and his hair flowed like a current of air was running through him, his eyes were more striking up close and his presence radiated exoticness.

“I believe there is an enemy coming. I’m looking for people with certain abilities, warriors prepared to fight.” Bruce looked at Curry, he already knew the outcome, but no one said he wasn’t stubborn. He wasn’t surprised when Arthur grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and slammed him against the wall next to the door, Curry closed the distance between their faces until his nose almost touching his. “Arthur Curry.” Bruce smirked.

(You get off on this, but this rush will kill you one day. You fight every disciple you meet; you made their Lord bleed and marked him as if it was your right. You don’t make him proud.)

“You dare to come here and ask for help, human.” Arthur growled as he shook him. “What makes you think I will help you?”

“This world is yours too. Would you want them to die?” Bruce made a vague gesture towards the silent crowd watching them. “It’s obvious you care about them, if you didn’t, you wouldn’t come every winter.” Curry released him, but did not back off.

“I have seen how your kind treats those different to them.  You already killed one.” Arthur grunted as he made a move towards the door, he didn’t push Bruce outside but the command was as obvious as the threat. “I don’t have any wish to help you.”

(What do you expected? Humanity killed their Lord; he has every right to let them burn.)

As he drove away, the village a mere reflection in the car’s mirror a thought came to him, Diana would not be pleased, but there wasn’t anything else he could have done.

.

_There were tall buildings around, nothing that seemed familiar, so he moved forward, he felt he walked for an endless time, buildings were the only things surrounding him, he stopped and looked up, the sky was black and there weren’t clouds around, he was shrouded in darkness._

_He sighed and kept walking, or at least he tried, but he couldn’t move and as he looked down his eyes widened, there were bodies all over the road, and they were dressed alike, blue and red, his symbol plastered on their chest and a green light shined from it. He went down to his knees and felt something wet dampening his clothes, when he directed his eyes to it, he noticed the blood staining the streets, it came from the bodies._

_Guilty, I’m guilty._

Bruce gasped as he woke up, he was drenched in sweat and his body shook with tremors as he tried to regain his breath. _Another nightmare,_ he thought. Nothing he wasn’t used to already, they had plagued him all his life, he was always guilty.

Bruce removed the blankets from his body and stood up, he discarded his drenched underwear on the floor and walked towards the bathroom, Alfred wouldn’t be happy to pick them up, but Bruce didn’t care about it right now. Before he entered the shower, he stared at the bottles on the sink, he had not taken them today, but he didn’t need them, he was fine and he knew better, or at least that was he tried to tell himself.

(Liar. If you knew better we would not be here.)

Bruce shook his head and ignored the voice as he always did; they were not new either, but had gotten worse since _his_ death. It seemed his mind was obsessed with him.

Bruce took a quick cold shower and put pants and a t-shirt on, he may as well put himself to use if he was awake. Before he left for the Cave he grabbed the bottles of pills, opened them and downed one from each bottle with alcohol, ignoring the voice yelling at him from the back of his mind. Mixing pills and alcohol would kill him if being Batman didn’t.

(Didn’t you know better?)

.

Bruce removed his cowl and rubbed a hand across his face, he had not slept for more than three hours the past week, between the nightmares, the hallucinations and Gotham’s cry for help, he didn’t have time to do it. Bruce knew Alfred was concerned, he showed it in his own way, with his sarcastic comment about Bruce’s lack of appetite or about his death wish of mixing pill and alcohol or about his recklessness. Bruce couldn’t stop to care.

And it was in that state that Diana found him when she returned, it was a cold January day, at first he thought she was another hallucination. It would be new but not a surprise, never a surprise.

It was dawn, Bruce calculated; she wore her hair in a bun and was dressed in a long coat, and its color reminded him of spilled wine and blood. She irradiated strength and something otherworldly; her golden crown appeared once again on her head and looked calm, not flaring, but the beam of light that accompanied her grew as she approached, illuminating the whole room and bringing warm to his bones. If he ever doubted she was a goddess, the proof was here.

(A goddess before your eyes. Do you feel worthy?)

Diana walked towards where he sat and took the glass of whisky from his hand, setting it on the table behind him, she didn’t say a word, letting the silence fill the space between them, it was calming and it brought a small comfort. Something he missed lately, since Alfred’s silences were filled with badly expressed worry and slight recrimination, and there was no one else, not since _they left._

(And whose fault is that? One was taken and given back, the other driven by your hand, and you haven’t reached either of them.

Mercy is not something you deserve.)

Several minutes passed before Diana moved, her golden crown never flared or disappeared; she made a beautiful sight. She sat on the table’s edge and Bruce felt a small pang of irritation, but squished it, he needed to take his pills, but not in her presence. Diana stared at him for a pair of seconds before she broke the silence; she spoke about the land where she came from, Themyscira, and how she missed the feel of the sand and the sea, it didn’t feel like home anywhere else, she remarked.

Diana explained a bit of her home, she talked about the architecture, how there weren’t any skyscrapers or fast food restaurants; she had learnt how to appreciate those. She spoke about her mother, the Queen, and reminisced her birth. She told him that she had not born of any man, only made of clay, and her powers were given by the Greek Gods. It was fantastical in its own right.

Bruce didn’t comment or grabbed his glass back, he sat there and listened to her story, but he wondered why she returned after no sign from her for three months and sat there to talk about her home, and why not sooner or why not later.

“I have seen a great deal during my travels, and you without doubt are one of the beings that need companionship the most,” she added after a long silence.

“I need no one.”

(But it’s a lie, isn’t it? Because we needed them, and without Alfred we would not survive one night. We weren’t made to be alone.)

“Were you successful?” Diana asked, changing the subject of their conversation, but her inquiring gaze never left.

Bruce knew she was now taking in her environment and his appearance, he still in his suit with no cowl and hair plastered to his forehead, the watered whisky and the bottles of pills hidden poorly behind the main computer. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to care; she could judge all she wanted. It wasn’t his fault that God had not made then flawless.

“We got one and a half.” Bruce grunted, as if daring her to be displeased.

“He said no.”

“He said no.” Bruce confirmed. “However, Victor Stone came to me; he will help when time comes, no before.”

“They will come around.” Diana said with certainty, he did not refute her even if he doubted her. “They always come around,” she added with a pointed look towards him, something he decided to ignore.

“We will need to hold a meeting. Allen and you have to meet and we need to prepare plan for whoever Luthor called out there.”

.

Bruce had good, bad and typical days, as everyone, even if his bad days were worse than what was common, and his typical days weren’t that typical.

 

Good days were rare and apart since _they_ were gone and had gotten rare since _he_ died, but they also increased since Diana moved in two days after her return, she explained that she needed to be close now that League would be more than just the two of them, and that Barry would need to be trained and the team be made. Bruce wasn’t fooled; he knew she stayed because she thought he needed company.

Barry was awed when he met Diana, all hardly contained energy wanting to come out, he shook her hand and bowed, before running around the Cave, leaving blue energy all over the place, muttering to himself as he gestured with his hands, Diana laughed merrily, but Bruce noticed the glint in her eyes, she perceived too the loneliness inside Barry, the emptiness wanting to crawl out of him.

They spoke for hours, Diana and Bruce laid out the plans they made and explained about the other two candidates plus the reason the Leagues was being formed, Barry sat there with a cheerful smile, but they noticed that he would run out every now and then bringing snacks with him, he seemed to run on sugar, no doubt his caloric intake higher because he burned it out fast, but Bruce could see that it hid something else too, because he saw it in himself, even if Barry concealed better with his nice demeanor and easy going smiles.

Alfred appeared as soon as they finished explaining their expectations and goals, mentioning that the room for the guest was ready, since Diana already stayed there. Bruce saw right away through Alfred’s tactic, he was making it so Bruce had to spend more time with them. It would force him out of his isolation.

Since that, good days now meant Bruce sleeping for more than six hours, with no recurrent nightmares or hallucinations calling him names. They meant him working in the Cave with alcoholic drinks nowhere in sight while Alfred worked around the Cave, sometimes Barry and Diana spent time in it, sparring or chattering. It meant quiet companionship in Diana’s case and bursting energy in Barry’s case. It didn’t bother Bruce as much as he thought it would.

 

Typical days were in between, they were the most common obviously yet they weren’t memorable, at least not to Bruce. These days brought an ache to Bruce that spread with the years.

Bruce woke up, took his pills and went on with his day, typical days were a set of hit or miss, sometimes he ate three meals, sometimes he did not, but he at least ate. He didn’t necessarily slept for more than six hours, but at least he slept for more than three hours. He oversaw Wayne Enterprises and talked with his employees then went back to the Lake house and did his duty as Batman.

Typical days brought at times the headaches and hallucinations. Bruce called them typical days because it was how he felt most of the days, even if nothing about how he felt or not was typical and recurrent for him.

 

Bad days weren’t a surprise for Bruce and they brought with them many things, be bad because he was going through withdrawal symptoms, dizziness and delusions, because he was too stubborn and didn’t want or forgot to take his medications. They also could be bad because the pills brought side effects, lack of appetite and nausea mixed with insomnia, as if he didn’t had enough already.

At least bad days didn’t mean anymore sickness because of his desires to mix pills and alcohol, Alfred thanked Diana for that. She had a sixth sense to the alcohol, every time Bruce took his medications and decided to drink a glass of alcohol; Diana appeared and took it from him.

The first time it happened, it went bad fast. Bruce hadn’t slept for more than three hours in two days because of a case and he hadn’t taken his medications either, so he wasn’t in the best of moods. Bruce went to the kitchen and took his pills then proceeded to down a glass of whisky when Diana grabbed the glass from his hand and settled it on the kitchen’s table.

Bruce’s first reaction was to grind his teeth to stop himself from snarling, he crossed his arms and glared at her, Diana’s arched eyebrow did not help to calm the situation.

“What do you think you are doing?” Bruce said through his clenched teeth, he was close to slipping, the anger simmering.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Diana rebuffed, she was aware of Bruce’s mood, but she thought he needed an outlet, someone who could take everything he had to give. “You need help.”

Bruce was seething; he couldn’t believe the nerve of this woman, what more did she want? She made him open his house for her and ordered him around, she got him searching for strangers that did not like him or reminded Bruce of things he didn’t want, and now she dared to think she knew what was best for him? He inhaled trying to calm himself, but her expression didn’t help and he bared teeth at her. He grabbed the glass and threw it against the wall behind her; it shattered instantly, the sound cutting through the tense air.

Diana didn’t flinch or moved from where she was standing, she had seen this before, this controlled rage that needed to be let out. Diana knew that he would not dare to hit her, he was aggressive, but he wouldn’t lift a hand against someone he thought as an ally, at least not without proof that it was deserved, and only in the case he thought they were a danger to mankind. Yet, this kind of behavior was not correct so Diana stared at him, arms crossed in a defiant position.

As soon as the glass hit the wall and shattered, Bruce backed off, he looked at Diana with anger, she had manipulated him in doing this, she was getting under his skin and he didn’t like it. Bruce rubbed a hand against his face and without a word left the kitchen, he needed to get out. Diana did not follow him, but she knew he would not drink another glass tonight.

.

Bruce was having one of his bad days; he had not taken his pills for three days because he was undercover on a case as Matches Malone, he couldn’t be less than sharp, and when he returned to the Cave he could not move from his spot in front of the computers, he felt dizzy and couldn’t ingest any food without feeling nauseous, he only grabbed his pills and downed them with water. He was half tempted to call Alfred, but he didn’t want to worry him more.

(Look at you, helpless. You always have been, after all, you were not able to save them.)

Bruce snarled and punched the table, pain always helped him through the hallucinations, he could not afford to be distracted in the moment, he needed to input the information gathered in the computer then he could go to sleep and later, he would go out as Batman and take care of the responsible.

“Not the time,” Bruce snarled as he clenched his fists to calm himself.

“Sorry.” A voice whispered from behind him, foreign to the Cave, his mind was playing him tricks again and Bruce had enough, he grabbed the glass of water he was drinking and without turning threw it against the source of the sound, he knew it would shatter against the floor and he would have to clean it, but he needed something to fill the silence.

A sharp intake of breath followed the sound of shattered glass, but it didn’t sound like it hit the floor, Bruce whirled around, and the sight that greeted him was shocking. There was an alive Clark Kent, wearing a flannel, dark jeans and boots, there were no glasses to hide his cautious blinking and his stare at the broken shards of glass in the floor, also anything hid the small cuts that now marred his face.

Bruce inhaled before closing his eyes and counting to ten in his mind; he had a flashback to their fight, the glowing green of the spear, the cut on Clark’s face and his expression begging him to understand. This wasn’t happening; his mind had to be playing tricks to him.

(Sinner, when will you stop? He is not yours to mark.)

Bruce rose from his spot, ignoring the sudden wave of dizziness that hit him, and walked the distance that separated them, he needed to confirm if it was real or something his mind was making up once again, but before he could touch him, Clark flinched and fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Bruce stopped short, wondering if he should come closer, since he was the cause of the attack.

The decision was taken out of his hands as Clark extended his arms as looking something to grasp and anchor himself, Bruce sank to the floor in front of him, it was better this way, if he stayed close to the floor, the dizziness would not bother him too much and he could ground Clark.

Bruce allowed Clark to rest his hands on his shoulders as he whispered Clark’s name, yet he didn’t expect an answer before moving his left hand slowly until it touched Clark’s knee, he rubbed it in slow circles, he calmed his breathing and asked Clark to follow his breath’s rhythm. Bruce murmured encouragements as he kept rubbing his fingers against the fabric of Clark’s jeans.

“I’m sorry,” Clark whispered as he looked at his shaking hands resting on Bruce’s shoulders, his hold was loose, but the cuts on his face were already healed to Bruce’s relief.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” Bruce answered as he patted with his free hand Clark’s back. Bruce had dealt with panic attacks before, his and others, and didn’t mind helping Clark. Albeit he didn’t think aliens could get them. “I was responsible for it. I thought I was alone.” He didn’t comment on the fact that he thought he was hallucinating again.

Clark didn’t reply, he moved forward and wrapped his hands around Bruce’s neck, resting his forehead on the arm wrapped around Bruce’s left shoulder; it was an uncomfortable position for both of them, and Bruce pondered his next action before deciding that it would be the best course of action right now. He grabbed Clark by his thighs and lifted him up then moved him until he was straddling Bruce, his knees protested, but he ignored them.

Clark was surprised for a moment, yet he was still reeling for the panic attack so he snuggled his face against Bruce’s neck, and the rub of his eyelashes against Bruce’s neck gave Bruce shivers that he repressed quickly, the position was intimate for both of them, but Bruce knew comfort was important after a panic attack. He had given it a few times for his sons, when they arrived at the mansion and their nightmares were chasing them.

(Look at you, thinking you deserve his touch, his presence. He’s a God, and you, you’re a heretic.)

“It has been two long weeks.” Clark mumbled after a while, voice muffled against Bruce’s collar shirt. “Mom said that I should come to you, that you were helping people like me.”

(But no one is like him, not even the goddess, because we have devoted ourselves to this particular God, haven’t we?)

“Your mother never called.”

“She wanted to; she wanted you to be the second to know, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone.” _I didn’t want to talk to you_ , Bruce’s mind translated. “Now Lois, mom and you are the only ones that know,” Clark confided as he burrowed himself deeper in Bruce’s embrace. “I really don’t know why I came; I guess I needed to talk to someone else. I didn’t want to keep worrying her.”

Bruce was getting tired, he had planned to take his pills, input the information and get some sleep, so the sickness would stop bothering him, but now Clark was here, and he was carrying him on his lap. However Bruce couldn’t complain about how carrying grown men was not a way to rest, this was the least he could do after being one of the responsible for the panic attack.

“I’m tir—”

“Bruce.” Clark’s quiet confession was interrupted by Diana arriving to the Cave, but before he could turn his head to look at her, Clark was already out of his arms, a slight blush marring his face.

Bruce stood up as well, ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to hit him, before whirling to stare at Diana, and small part of him thought that if she could see Clark, it meant that he wasn’t hallucinating.

(But you still were quick to touch him, even if you thought he wasn’t real. You always loved to take what it wasn’t yours.)

“You came back,” Diana said as she moved to shake Clark’s hand. “I’m glad to know you’re one of us.”

“One of you?” Clark tilted his head to the side, confused.

“It isn’t uncommon for some civilizations to come back.””

“Zod died and didn’t come back, so it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s something kryptonian.” Yet, Bruce filled it mentally. “Clark, are you going to stay?”

Clark looked at his hands before nodding. He didn’t want to go back to Smallville, he already had trouble flying to Gotham since his powers were not back in his entirety and he didn’t want to worry his mother more. While Clark got lost in his mind, Diana and Bruce shared a look, they would talk later.

Bruce guided Clark to one of his guests’ rooms and told him to rest, they would talk in the morning, and he didn’t notice Clark biting his lip as he nodded. Then he went back to the Cave, where Diana was already typing something on one of the computers.

‘Is it him? You know him.’

‘I don’t know him, I only met him for a few hours, and most of that time we were enemies.’ Diana glared at Bruce after reading what he wrote; he was being a silly child if he thought she would fall for that.

‘You got an encrypted file with the image of his shield and while I haven’t seen what’s inside, I’m sure it’s filled with all kinds of information about him. I wouldn’t be surprised if you knew what brand of cereal he ate for breakfast.’

Bruce ignored Diana’s words; he would not confirm her suspicions even if she was right, after Clark’s death he filled the file with trivial information, from where he bought his clothes to how he liked to do his laundry. It was his way of coping.

‘It seems to be him, but I would have to call his mother to see what she has observed.’ Diana nodded and pushed herself away from the computer then walked towards the stairs, it seemed they were done for now.

Ten minutes after Diana left, Bruce was calling Martha Kent.

“Mrs. Kent, I apologize for calling at this hour but Clark is here.” Bruce said as soon as Martha answered his call.

“Don’t worry Bruce. I’m sorry for not calling before, but is he troubling you? I’ve been telling him to go and see you.”

“It’s okay. Clark told me he didn’t feel comfortable talking to other people.” Bruce reassured her, she didn’t owe him anything. “How long has he been back?” Bruce asked wanting to confirm Clark’s words.

“Almost two weeks. We haven’t talked about his time in _there_ but I think he needs a break. He hasn’t been all here.”

“Have you detected something amiss with him?”

“He’s my son, a mother knows.” She said, wanting to reassure him. “I just think he feels lost.” Bruce hummed, it was not a surprising. One did not die and came back the same.

After a small conversation about how they were and the state of the farm, they ended the call. They both needed to rest.

Clark walked around the room, inspecting it; it was bigger than the rooms at the farm. It gave him a feeling of relief that he would have not found before, he still wasn’t comfortable with enclosed spaces, and that’s why he thanked that the house was made of glass. It gave him a view of the house’s exterior.

Outside the lake house was dark, the forest around it gave the house a feeling of isolation, so different from the farm, where the sun shined and there wasn’t a place from where to hide, and in the night the stars illuminated the whole sky. It helped him.

As he finished inspecting the room, he removed his clothes, leaving only his boxers on, and decided to sit cross-legged in the middle of the bed, he knew sleep would not come soon, since he came back he was restless, he didn’t need sleep but he used to enjoy it; now it just brought him nightmares and the feeling of helplessness, he was tired of that.

He felt like a fraud, he should not be feeling fear. _Superman should not be afraid._

Clark brushed a hand against his face and sighed, he didn’t know what overcame him earlier, resting against Bruce and climbing his lap, but it had been comforting, he missed being held like that, not many people was bigger than him and even less people was daring enough to held him.

Clark knew he was lonely; he missed Lois, her voice and her presence, even if they talked on the phone, but it was tense, after all he died on her. He could sense she wasn’t ready to face him, since she never offered to visit and kept taking the jobs that took her overseas, never staying more than two weeks on Metropolis. He could understand her, having to mourn someone for months and then they appearing out of nowhere wanting to try and get you back in their lives, he had to let her move on.

Clark moved his legs until he could hug them and rested his forehead on his knees, he always rested in this position since childhood, it was a way to comfort himself without worrying others of his distress, he stayed like that as he dozed off involuntarily.

_He pushed and pushed upwards but it did not shake under his hands, his strength was gone, and the darkness was growing around him, he could feel the hole in his chest getting bigger. The creature might have killed him but this was his end. He was a being made of sunlight, but he would die there, under the ground, caged and alone._

_In the dark a voice whispered to him, don’t be sad, at least you’ll get to see your father; God knows how much you miss him._

_It was comforting for a moment, but this couldn’t be it. He pushed again, he needed to get out, for Mom and Lois, for the World that needed him, (they betrayed you), but before he could press once more, it caved; the earth filled his lungs and his mind. This was it._

Clark awoke startled and gasping for breath, he coughed wanting to get out the soil out his lungs, too much, he thought, I don’t want to die like this. Seconds later he realized it was a dream, and not a new one, this was one of his recurrent nightmares, the other being his death, where there were heat, pain and screams everywhere, but not the creature. He couldn’t remember the creature that killed him.

He stretched his limbs after he stood up from the bed, he didn’t think he would back to rest for the rest of the night, he didn’t want another nightmare. Clark walked to the outer wall of the room, the one made of glass, and opened the large windows, the cold air hit his face and made him feel a bit better, if he could feel the air that mean that he wasn’t back in there, that there wasn’t any soil filling his lungs. He looked at the forest, it was quiet out there, but maybe it was because his hearing wasn’t back yet.

Clark had not told his mother about it, he did not want to worry her, but he knew she could sense it, she always asked him if he needed anything and when he told her no, and she encouraged him to visit Bruce, because it would help him get on track. However Clark didn’t want to tell anyone that he had no control over his powers most of the time, flight was the most consistent, speed and strength were the least, and his varied visions and hearing were not even back yet. Even his invulnerability, the first power to manifest, wasn’t all there, as had been already proven that night.

 _Could he be Superman?_ He sighed, he could not doubt himself, if he did he could not do his job properly, he needed to push everything back and everything would be fine, this _irrational_ _fear_ would go. _But what is Superman without his powers?_

A sound came from somewhere to his left, and when he turned his head to look, he found the woman from earlier, the one that Bruce called Diana, floating and moving until she was standing next to him on the room. She stared at his face, searching for something, and he didn’t know if she found it or not but she stayed silent for a few minutes before talking.

“You are troubled Kal-El.”

“Clark, please.” He answered, that name distressed him, it was a reminder of his alienness, of his lost.

“Your name does not define you. You are not less of Superman because you chose to live your life as Clark Kent.”

“I don’t think that.”

Diana did not answer but her stare said everything, _you can lie to yourself all you want but we both know the truth_. If Clark was honest with himself, her presence made him uncomfortable, she was fierce but calm, her aura projected strength and confidence. She was everything he wished he was and it made him feel disgusted at himself. _Superman should be above envy_.

Clark sighed and thought that he should have gone back to the farm, despite that he didn’t think he could have made it the same night, it was a mess. He was a mess, and he should have not come here. Bruce already thought he was a catastrophe waiting to happen, what he would do if he realized he could not control his powers?

“Control is hard to grasp.” Diana said, her voice startled him, he had forgotten about her presence. “I can’t talk for dying and coming back, but I can see you struggling for control.”

 _Ask for help, ask._ A voice that sounded like Lois said in the back of his mind.

“I— I’m dealing with it, thank you.” _Knowing your limits and asking for help is not a weakness._ His father’s voice resounded within him, and it left him feeling guilty. He had to do better; his best was not enough right now. Yet he knew he was not doing better. He was just pushing his struggles aside, hoping they went away by themselves.

Dianna nodded at him, a small mercy, and he was grateful for it, the night had been stressful enough already, he didn’t need or want to keep piling more stress on it. What he needed was to rest, and he knew it wasn’t going to happen.

“You should take a shower, it will help.” Diana commented before walking towards the bedroom’s door, it took him a few seconds to process her words, and she was already out by then. Clark wondered why she didn’t enter that way before, or why she even came to him.

He closed the large windows and thought about her advice, it was a good one, at least it would help him relax and perhaps it could calm him enough to get some rest without nightmares, and with those thoughts he walked to the bathroom.

“Master Wayne, you have decided to grace us with your presence.” Alfred said as soon as Bruce stepped into the kitchen, what Bruce heard was ‘a warning would be nice but what can I expect from you?’

Clark was sitting on a stool in front of counter top, wearing the clothes he came in last night, and eating a bowl of cereal. Diana was nowhere in sight.

“Mister Kent, I apologize for Master Wayne carelessness.” Clark cocked his head, he resembled a confused puppy. “I’ll give you another set of clothes; you can wear them after you take a bath.” Clark blinked slowly at him, it was an adorable sight.

Before Clark could answer, Alfred filled his bowl with more cereal and milk, making Clark beam at him, but Bruce wasn’t fooled, it was a diversion tactic from Alfred, yet he didn’t comment as he sat next to Clark. Alfred hummed and gave him a plate of toasts with avocados and tomatoes on top then gave another bowl of cereal to Clark, Bruce knew that it was an oatmeal cereal with almond milk since Clark was allergic to some of human foods.

“It’s good we had safe food for Mister Kent.” Bruce ignored Alfred’s stare, he didn’t need to be reminded of his stalker tendencies as Alfred liked to call it. “I will go and arrange Mister Kent clothes.”

Bruce thanked Alfred in his mind; he needed to have a talk with Clark and it would make Clark more comfortable if there was no one close to hear it. He finished his breakfast and waited for Clark to finish his before saying a word.

“We have to talk.” Clark wetted his lips and nodded at him. “What can you remember?”

“I remember Diana helping and I remember the he— heat,” Clark paused at the word. “I remember having to breathe, the pain and the blackness.”

“Do you remember who we were fighting?” Clark bit his lip as he drummed his fingers against the counter. “And about waking up?”

Clark looked away from Bruce and he didn’t try to talk more. Bruce could see Clark’s trouble with the subject, Martha told him she didn’t try to breach the subject, wanting to give her son some space, but Bruce had the suspicion that Clark woke up some time before he was out of his grave. Bruce was in no way prepared to deal with Clark’s issues but he couldn’t let this go, it could explode in any moment.

“Clark, what can you remember?” Clark turned to look at Bruce and furrowed his eyebrows, his fingers no longer tapping the counter and Bruce knew the explosion was coming.

“What more do you want?” Clark yelled as he stood up. “I was dead then I was not, that’s it!” Bruce could see that Clark was having troubles with his breath, something that it shouldn’t be possible without the kryptonite, and was looking around like he was scared, no doubt looking for an exit.

“Clar—” Bruce closed his mouth when he saw Clark’s eyes turning to a glowing red, the veins around his eyes brightening with the pass of heat, it created the effect of a spider web growing all over his eyes, of magma spilling from his eyes. It was both beautiful and frightening.

Bruce stood up, but didn’t move, he knew that there wasn’t anything in the kitchen sturdy enough to withhold Clark’s heat vision, then decided to move towards Clark. It was a gamble and he hoped it worked. A small beam of laser passed him, hitting the counter behind him. Bruce stopped moving and only stared at Clark, whom blinked until his eyes stopped glowing, but the red was still there swimming the edge of his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, he sounded surprised, and bit his lip. “I should be better, I— don’t know what is wrong with me. I— can’t control them. I didn’t intend to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Bruce nodded at him, he knew how easy one could lose his temper if they didn’t have the proper training, and with Clark’s powers it would tend to be more difficult to keep calmness.

“Nothing is wrong with you. What you’re going through is a normal response to what happened to you.” Bruce could not offer more support than that, coping in a healthy way was not his strength.

(Millions would kneel before him. You don’t appreciate what we were given.)

Clark ran his hand around his face and sighed. Bruce could see why Martha sent him here, she wanted him to show Clark how to balance himself, and he could do that in his own way.

“I’ll go to the Cave.” Clark understood the silent _you can come if you want._

.

An hour later Bruce was sitting in the Cave, working on the case he prepared for days, he would need to go out later today, but he also had to work on Clark’s revival, he also needed to know more about wherever Clark came from and what he was. Bruce wasn’t surprised that Diana was nowhere in sight, he was used to her disappearing from time to time, she said it was for their group, but he thought it was to give him space, she at least knew when to push and when not to.

He heard the footsteps before he processed Clark was the one making them on purpose, to alert him if he for some reason was uncomfortable with him going downstairs. As soon as he entered the top part of the Cave, where Bruce was typing on the main computer, Clark walked towards the chair closest to Bruce and sat there, Bruce had moved it from the back and put it close to the main computer in the case Clark came down.

Clark moved his legs until he was hugging them while sitting and rested his head on his knees, he didn’t say word for a while and Bruce did not make him, he kept working on his case.

“Oxygen didn’t seem enough, even if I don’t need it, and I couldn’t push myself from there. It was dark and I panicked.” Clark whispered out of nowhere, but Bruce didn’t comment on it, it would be better if Clark talked about it without being forced. “I don’t know how long I was there before some of my strength came and I blasted the coffin. I laid next to my tomb for a while, I couldn’t move, paralyzed by fear.”

“It’s normal response.” Bruce commented after a minutes of silence from Clark.

“I don’t remember what we were fighting, I can’t. Every time I try I have trouble breathing and I feel dizzy, I only can remember that they were the one that _killed_ me, but I can’t remember how it looked and how it hurt me.” Clark made a noise of frustration and paused for a few minutes before resuming his story. “I— remember Lois, the spear and Diana, an impressive woman.”

“She is an Amazonian princess.” Clark gasped at that.

(Look at how pure he is, marveled because of a princess when he is so much more. Don’t taint him; he was not made for you to touch.)

“What are you?” Bruce asked, ignoring the voices in head, even the one that sounded like Alfred condemning him for being tactless.

“What am I?” Clark hummed, he didn’t seem offended. “I’m not something even if I’m not human, but if you want to know my race was eradicated, and my home world is gone. I wish I could say I was human, but I’m not, I’m not even normal for my race.”

“What do you know about where you came from?”

“I know we were called kryptonians and our home world was named Krypton, our language called kryptonian as well. I know my name is Kal-El, Kal of the House of El, son of Jor-El and Lara née Lor-Van. I’m the last of my species.”

Bruce listened while he added everything to his file of Clark, it was one of the biggest files he had of someone and the only one who had miscellaneous information about the person it was made.

“But I also know that my name is Clark Kent, son of Jonathan and Martha Kent, raised as a farmer’s son in Smallville. So then, who am I? I am not how they vision me.”

“You can’t guide yourself by what the public thinks of you, you are whom you choose to be, someone who decided to do good because they could.” Clark lifted his head and looked at him. “You’re Clark Kent and Kal-El, one does not erases the other, they make up what you are.”

“Thank you.” Clark whispered then bit his lip, he did that often Bruce noticed, and gave him a tentative smile, the first one Bruce witnessed and he felt breathless at the sigh, it was like seeing the sun appearing from the horizon. “My mom told me about your visits, I want to thank you for that too.”

(He is too generous, you don’t deserve the gift we were given.)

“It was nothing.”

“It was important Bruce. I don’t think she would have made it if she didn’t have someone supporting her.”

“You don’t give enough credit to your mother. She is a strong woman.”

“She is, but burying your husband and son can take a lot from someone.”

Bruce didn’t have an appropriate answer for that, he knew what it was to bury your parents and a son, and he knew what Martha had gone through but his case was not the same, her son came back to her, maybe not whole but he was there, and in the end it was better than not having him at all.

Clark only planned to stay for a day at maximum, but two weeks passed and he was still at the lake house. He thought he should go back; he didn’t belong there, in a house made of glass and filled with dark secrets and half-built truths.

However his mother told him he should stay there, that it was good for him. Clark thought his mother didn’t want him back at the farm yet, and he wasn’t surprised by it, he noticed her glances, the ones that meant she still didn’t believe he was alive. He knew she needed time to process his resurrection, and with him there she couldn’t, because she didn’t want to worry him. And that was why he didn’t fly back to Smallville, his mother deserved time.

But if Clark was truly honest with himself, he didn’t want to go back. Smallville wasn’t helping relieve the hollowness in him, because the heat might fill and empower him, but its intensity also made him relive the events prior to his death, and he was tired of the headaches. He was tired of feeling out of place; he just wanted to feel _not wrong_ for a moment, at least one moment.

“Mister Kent, your food is getting cold.” Clark blinked at Alfred; he hadn’t realized the plate was already in front of him, a stack of oatmeal chocolate chip cookie pancakes. Alfred had certainly taken as a challenge cooking for someone who was allergic to most common ingredients like milk, eggs and wheat.

Clark grabbed his fork and knife and started cutting in his pancakes, he had to stop blocking the world, because more often than not someone had to call his name more than once. Alfred busied himself in the kitchen, Clark was tempted to ask him to sit with him, but he learnt in his short stance that it wasn’t Alfred’s cup of tea. Clark was resolved to change that, but not yet, not while he wasn’t feeling like himself.

“Where is Bruce?” He had quickly realized that Bruce slept late half of the time, and the other half he didn’t sleep at all and went straight to Wayne Enterprises after coming back from his patrols.

“Master Bruce is asleep at the moment.” Alfred replied as he poured Clark a glass of passion fruit juice, it had become one of Clark’s favorite fruits since he tasted it one day in Colombia, after helping in a rescue. Clark was happy that Alfred bought it for him one day, since it was a bit expensive to him. It was a perk from living with a billionaire.

After finishing his plate, he stayed in his spot wondering what to do, normally he would go to the living room and watch television in Bruce’s massive TV, but he wasn’t in the mood to watch the news nor he was is the mood to watch random TV shows, because watching his old TV shows reminded him of the year he lost.

“Mister Kent, I’m sure Master Bruce showed you the library.” Alfred commented with an arched eyebrow.

Clark smiled sheepishly at Alfred, Bruce indeed had shown him the library, but he felt as an intruder walking around the lake house, most of the time he stayed in the living room or went to deck to get sunlight, and he only went to the Cave when Bruce was in there and left as soon as Bruce went out as Batman.

“I don’t want to bother.”

“There are many books that I’m certain will interest you as a reporter.” Clark knew a dismissal when he heard one; he nodded at Alfred and left the kitchen.

Clark headed for the library; he might as well follow Alfred’s suggestion, as he entered he wondered what he could read, Bruce had many books about different subjects and in different languages, which broadened his options.

Clark scanned the bookshelves, and not for the first time missed his powers, because with them it would be have done in seconds, yet he didn’t want to repeat the incident of the other morning, where his heat vision manifested at the worst time. Clark still felt guilty about it and he had not try to use it again, not while his powers were unstable, he didn’t want to hurt Bruce or anyone.

After a pair of minutes looking, a book on the table in the center called his attention, Matar a un ruiseñor, the Spanish book version of his favorite film, To Kill A Mockingbird, Clark grabbed it and went to sit in one of the chairs closest to the outer wall, where he could soak up in the sun while reading.

He read at a slow pace, his brain normally would process the foreign words at a fast pace, but since he wasn’t at his strongest, he had to re-read some of the words to translate it in English without mistakes. It didn’t trouble him as much since at least he was doing something to spend his time other than watching the news and feeling useless.

Sitting there was how Bruce found Clark hours later, with furrowed brows and chewing his lips as he was almost done with the book.

“Alfred told me you were here.” Clark looked up surprised; he had not noticed Bruce entering. He was wearing a dark grey t-shirt and black joggers, barefoot. It made him look soft in some way.

“You have an interesting collection,” Clark beamed as he lifted up the book’s cover and showed it to him “The film version it’s my favorite, and I have never read it in other language than English.”

“Your mother told me.” Bruce answered then arched his eyebrow when Clark stared at him intensely.

“Bruce.” Clark paused at his name, a soft smile growing on his face. “Did you buy it for me?”

“I did not do such a thing.” Clark could have believed him if Bruce had not decided to avoid his eyes.

“You totally did! That’s why Alfred told me to come here,” Clark stood up then put the book on the chair as he answered. “I appreciate it.”

Clark moved towards Bruce and hugged him as he laughed delighted, Bruce buying the book for him made him feel giddy and cared for. He missed the feeling of holding someone and he had no touched anyone since that first night when he climbed on Bruce’s lap. Clark got out of his thoughts as soon as he felt Bruce tensing and made a move to apologize and back off of Bruce’s space before he felt Bruce moving to give him an awkward pat on the back. It made Clark squeeze him a little bit, because it was endearing to him that Bruce was trying to be supportive when it wasn’t his jam.

“Clark.”

“Uh, sorry, I got a little excited there.” Clark released Bruce, biting his lip and rubbed a hand around his nape, he could feel his cheeks reddening slowly.

“It’s ok. I came here because I wanted to talk with you.”

“Are we going to have another talk like the first day?”

“I’m not going to ask you more about the past. I only want your permission to examine you.”

“Examine me?” Clark cocked his head to the right; it didn’t sit well with him.

“Yes. We need to know more about kryptonian biology.” Clark furrowed his eyebrows, unconvinced. “We need to know how to help your body when you need it and we also need to know the side effects of you coming back.”

“I— I’m not a monster Bruce.”

“I’m not saying that Clark.” Clark gazed at Bruce’s eyes and decided to trust in Bruce, but he needed time.

“Can I think about it?”

Bruce nodded at Clark then inclined his head to the left as a sign and turned around, leaving to go to the Cave. The corner of Bruce’s lip twitched as he heard Clark scrambling to get his book so he could follow him and read it in the Cave.

Clark always said that he didn’t want to be a burden, but he couldn’t stop himself from following Bruce around the house, he didn’t like being alone for too long.

.

Clark pondered the subject for during the afternoon while soaking of sunlight on the deck, he thought about the pro and cons, for one he trusted Bruce and it would be nice to know more about himself, since the ship was still under the Government possession, even if it was only about his organs. For other part, it meant that someone knew about his body and it could end badly, but he trusted Bruce would not do that, Bruce had told him about the League and that meant he had truly changed.

He walked around the house; it was mid-afternoon so Bruce would be somewhere in the house if he hadn't left for Wayne Enterprises or on a Batman’s job, he decided to look for him so they would talk about what this examination meant.

He found Bruce doing push-ups on the Cave, wearing only black joggers; he didn’t make any sounds as he pushed himself with only one hand. Clark was marveled at Bruce’s body, the scars that marred his body, they glistened because of the sweat, Clark noticed a large purple bruise on the side of Bruce that faced him, and a thought came to him that left him feeling guilty, _he is still beautiful like this._

Bruce stopped and turned to stare at him, Clark felt a blush spreading all over his face and neck at being caught staring, he turned his head and rubbed his neck.

“I suppose you want to talk,” Bruce said as he stood, going to the bench where bottles of water and a pair of towels were laying.

Clark didn’t stare at all as Bruce drank the water and dried himself off with the towel, he didn’t, but the blush that kept spreading towards his chest said otherwise.

“I don’t want to bother. I thought it would be good if we talked about the examination you want to do.” Bruce glanced at him. “It would make me feel calmer.”

“Would you feel more comfortable talking somewhere else?”

“No, I— I feel safe here, with you.” Clark flushed and looked to the side, missing Bruce’s surprised expression.

Bruce sat on the bench as he tossed the towel on the floor, and patted the place next to him; Clark walked and sat next to him, trying to subdue his blush as he felt their thighs brushing, even if kryptonian blushes were not that noticeable, Bruce would no doubt see it this close.

“The examination would not be that deep, actually I will only extract your blood and examine it, the blood holds many secrets to one’s biology. Maybe later we will do a more in-depth examination, but for now only the blood.” Clark relaxed, he thought it would be worse, that Bruce would hook him up with some cables, but still something was bothering.

“How will you extract my blood? I may get cuts now, but they don’t last long. The needle would break immediately.”

“I will have to make a kryptonite needle.”

“Kryp— tonite?” Clark gasped out.

“I didn’t know you would come back, but I couldn’t let the government have it.” Bruce explained. “And you have to understand, I know you would not hurt people on your own accord, but I can’t get rid of it.” Clark notice the small quirk of Bruce’s eyebrow, and the way his mouth would adopt a deprecatingly line.

Clark understood where Bruce came from, his father had explained it to him all his life, people would fear him because they didn’t like what they couldn’t control and humanity feared what it was different to the norm, but he couldn’t let it get to him.

“It’s ok. I trust you.” Clark moved his hand and grabbed Bruce’s hand intertwining them and resting them on the space where their thighs met, he squeezed it reassuringly. _Smallville, don’t trust so easily!_ Lois’ voice of wisdom came to him, but he shook his head, Lois tended to be cynic, just like Bruce.

Bruce looked at their hands then looked at Clark’s face, as if looking for deception, but he only found trust shining on his eyes and a small smile, no less bright that the big ones. Bruce felt undeserving of his trust; Clark gave it so fast and without reserves.

They stayed silent, hands still intertwined. He knew he should let Bruce’s hand go and let him go back to his exercise, but this was comforting to Clark because he had not found many people with whom he could sit quietly and it would not be awkward. Yet, something nagged him.

“Do you think you would find in my blood why my powers don’t function?” He asked flustered.

“Your powers haven’t come back?” Bruce replied surprised, he had wondered about the hit or miss vulnerability, but he didn’t think anything else was missing, not since Clark used his heat vision.

“Kind of. Most of them haven’t come back. My control flying is shaky, and I have some strength and speed, yet they’re not at their one hundred percent.” Clark worried his lower lip as he rubbed his free hand against the half of his face. “But my hearing, most of my visions and my arctic breath are not back, the only vision that came back was the heat one and you saw the moment it came.”

Bruce filled his mental folder of Clark with all the information he was receiving, he mentioned various visions and Bruce wondered how many he had apart from the heat one, and the arctic breath he hadn’t see it before.

“Anything else is missing?”

“I don’t think so, my photographic memory is still there, even if I can’t remember our whole fight against the creature, and I still can process other languages and understand them in seconds.”

“You went through some trauma, it’s understandable.”

Clark squeezed Bruce’s hand once more as he smiled at him, now he knew Bruce kept track of all the powers and abilities of everyone he met and made contingency plans around them, but he didn’t mind. _I won’t break Bruce’s trust in me_ , he thought as he moved sideways and rested his head on Bruce’s shoulder.

.

Clark bit his trembling lip as Bruce came closer. _You trust Bruce, if you didn’t you would have not approved this_ , he told himself, but a tiny part of him was scared, he still had a hard time remembering the fight prior to his death and he had not even thought about his fight with Bruce, he didn’t know how he would react to Bruce pulling out a kryptonite needle. Clark ignored the other part of him that said _you trust him but what about him? He still has the kryptonite._ He could understand why Bruce kept it, and it was better him than the Government.

Clark clenched his fists to hide the shaking, and closed his eyes as he counted to ten in his mind to try to calm himself. _It’s going to be ok_ , he thought, _you’re going to be ok_. Yet those thoughts didn’t stop from flinching when he felt Bruce’s hand on his arm, he gazed at Bruce and tried to apologize, but Bruce stopped him with a shake of his head.

“You need to relax, because if you don’t the needle will break inside you.” Clark’s expression turned alarmed, it was a thought that hadn’t come to him. “We don’t know how your circulatory system works, you didn’t bleed when you died—” Clark’s breath hitched, he didn’t want to touch that subject. “And you didn’t bleed when the spear cut you.”

“But I have a beating heart.” Clark commented uncomfortable.

“Actually, we don’t know that. It resembles the beating of a human heart but it might not be.” This talk was incrementing Clark’s nerves. “It would be interesting to inspect you, you share similar physical appearance to humans but your internal organs must be different. After all, you cannot eat some of our foods.”

Clark blinked as Bruce murmured about statistics and probabilities; it seemed that he had gone into detective mode, wanting to compare Clark’s biology with his. Clark was getting more worried by the second; he didn’t need more reminders of his alienness

“Could you stop?” Clark pleaded and turned his eyes to a spot behind Bruce’s shoulder, missing the small nod.

Bruce didn’t say more comments while he put the tourniquet around Clark’s bicep, he barely felt the pressure, but it gave him something to distract him. Clark watched as Bruce grabbed his arm and massaged the inner elbow, it had been noted that kryptonians’ hearts didn’t pump blood as fast and the blood vessels were less and more hidden under the skin, making it difficult to access the blood, so it was needed a prior massaging to find a vessel. When Bruce found a vessel, he disinfected the place where the needle would go, making Clark giggle and in result Bruce scoffed, but it was ignored by Clark.

“I’m going to pull out the needle now.” Clark tensed, but nodded, he gave his approval and now he had to fulfill his word.

Clark watched as Bruce went to the table where all the medical supplies were laid out and grabbed a medium box made of lead, Bruce opened it with care and turned around, thinking he had to do the extraction quickly so Clark didn’t have to feel the effects of kryptonite for too long. But as soon as Bruce turned around he noticed Clark was struggling for breath; he looked pale, his skin had lost his healthy shine.

“Clark?” Bruce asked as he approached the other.

Clark quickly put a hand on his mouth to muffle the sounds coming out of him, but Bruce could hear the words he said and it churned his stomach to hear _no no no, don’t hurt me please, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m good I promise._

Bruce twirled around to store the needle when Clark scrambled out of the chair, wanting to put space between them as he could feel his chest contracting and small puffs of breath coming out of him, they appeared as mist and Clark knew it was his ice breath returning. It wasn’t conclusive yet, but it looked like every time Clark was under duress or felt threatened, his powers manifested to protect him.

Clark tried to calm himself since he could see how his breath crystallized the back of the chair where he previously sat, he could hear the beating of his heart, and it was uncommonly fast. Clark sank to the floor as a wave of dizziness hit him, he was losing control and he could not afford that.

“Clark, I put away the needle.” Clark looked up at Bruce, hand still clasped over his mouth. “I need you to concentrate on my breathing.”

Bruce moved two steps to the front as soon as he saw Clark following his breathing; he timed counting to ten in his mind, and moved until he was standing in front of Clark, hand going to rest on his shoulder as Clark moved forward until he was resting his forehead against Bruce’s thigh. They stayed like that until Clark calmed down and stood up rubbing his eyes.

“I—” Clark stuttered and looked to the side embarrassed, his cheeks were red.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“I feel like I do. I trust you and I don’t why I reacted like that, you’re not trying to kill me anymore.” _You’re too trusting;_ Lois’ voice came to him as soon as he talked.

“It’s ok Clark.” Bruce interrupted, he didn’t mind because it was his fault, he should have known better, even if Clark trusted him, his subconscious was looking to protect him.

Bruce grabbed the box with the kryptonite needle and the kit to extract blood, then with a tap on his fingers on Clark’s shoulder directed him towards upstairs and to the kitchen, where Alfred was preparing the meal.

“Is there a problem?” Alfred inquired as soon as he saw them entering the kitchen, setting the knife down and going to wash his hands.

“I need you to extract Clark’s blood,” Bruce said as he put everything on the kitchen isle, Alfred knew what to do. “I’ll be in the Cave.”

Clark sat in one of the kitchen stools as his eyes prickled with the strain of holding back his tears, he felt like the biggest burden right now. He was useless already and now he could not deal with his issues? Clark wanted to scream at something.

“Mister Kent, it’s not necessary to do it right now.” Clark shook his head to negate and also to dissipate the words screaming inside his head, he could not burden them more, and extended his right arm.

Alfred didn’t comment and proceeded as Bruce had before, putting the tourniquet and looking for a vessel. When Clark saw Alfred grabbing the lead box he clenched his eyes tightly and inhaled to calm himself, he would get through this and it would be fine.

He looked to the side, not wanting to see the needle, but nothing could stop the feeling of nausea that hit him or his slight trembling, he bit his lip and inhaled once more as he felt the injection, it was fast and aside from the burn of the kryptonite it didn’t hurt him. Alfred filled two tubes with his blood and put the needle back in the box.

“Mister Clark, I have something for you.” Alfred said as he went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of chocolate mousse and put it in front of Clark.

Clark gasped at the sight and blushed when Alfred arched his eyebrow; it had not been a surprise to anyone that he loved to eat Alfred’s food, and that he was eager to eat all the new food. He ate his bowl of mousse as Alfred left to take the vials of blood to Bruce, trying and failing in not think about his panic attack in the Cave.

.

A day later, Clark finally found the courage to talk with Bruce, whom was sitting on the living room with a laptop, working in what Clark assumed, was Wayne Enterprises documents. Clark went to sit in the middle of the large sofa, not so far from Bruce, and tried to not fidget or glance at him, but he knew he failed when Bruce arched his eyebrow as he turned to look at Clark.

“You want to talk.” It was not a question, but he nodded, however he did not utter a word.

Clark was grateful for Bruce’s patience when it came to talking, he knew when to push and when not to, or at least that’s what Clark perceived, but he could be biased since Bruce had been helping him.

They sat there in silence, Clark looking at the ray of moonlight that filtered through the window, he couldn’t hear the owls outside or the sound of the leaves when the air hit them, but in some way was calming, even if it made him nostalgic.

Clark furrowed himself in the sofa as he thought how to approach Bruce, he rested his head on the back of the sofa, it was one of the comfiest sofa he ever laid on, everything Bruce owned screamed luxury, but they also were incredibly comfy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s a normal response.” Evidently Bruce knew about what Clark wanted to talk. “Let it drop, I don’t hold it against you as you don’t hold anything over me.”

Clark could hear the depreciating undertone in Bruce’s voice, no doubt Bruce still felt guilty about his death, but he didn’t comment on it. They both needed to make peace with their actions, and with those thoughts on his head Clark fell asleep as he rested next to Bruce on the sofa.

Bruce noticed Clark falling asleep as soon as it happened; he had gone silent and his body relaxed after a while, yet Bruce was surprised when Clark’s body moved on his accord and slid through the sofa until Clark was laying on his side, the top of his head pressed against Bruce’s right thigh.

“Master Bruce, have you seen Mister— hmmm.” Bruce turned to look at Alfred raising his eyebrows, in a clear display of poorly hidden happiness. “I’ll be back.” Bruce sighed, Alfred would be impossible now; he liked Clark and thought he was a good influence for Bruce.

But he didn’t dare to push Clark away, he noticed how Clark had not been sleeping, no doubt from the nightmares he must be getting, the only energy he received was from the Sun and Bruce didn’t want to be the one to wake him, not when he needed to sleep so obviously.

Alfred returned with a glass of water, his pills and two blankets, he drank his pills with his water as he watched Alfred accommodating Clark’s legs until they were comfortable on the sofa then draped one of the blankets over Clark’s sleeping body and set the other blanket on top of him.

“It’s for you, Master Bruce.” Bruce stared at him, but didn’t reply and went back to working. Alfred said his goodbye and retired for the night.

Bruce kept working until the clock hit midnight, and Clark never stirred, but as he tried to stand up he heard Clark whimpering as his hands shot up to grab Bruce’s pants, still he didn’t wake up.

Bruce sighed as he pondered on the best course of action, he could wake up Clark and they both could go back to their respective rooms.

(Why waste the opportunity? You may not be worthy, but that has not stopped you before.)

He didn’t want to wake Clark, but sleeping with him there would abuse his trust, even if Clark was always ready to initiate contact, he was a tactile person. He rubbed a hand across his face and decided to sleep there; he could brush it off in the morning.

Bruce set the computer on the table in front of him and grabbed the blanket on top of Clark; he stretched his legs and put them up until he could fit them on sofa then rested his back on the big cushion, draping the blanket over his body carefully to not bother Clark. He watched as Clark moved immediately to rest his head on top of Bruce’s thighs and draping his arms around his legs. Bruce sighed, but wasn’t surprised that Clark was one of those koala bears sleeping person.

And in that position he fell asleep. Neither of them had nightmares that night.

.

“Hello Bruce!” Barry’s voice resounded within the cave as he approached Bruce. “It has been a few weeks since I last came.” Bruce grunted as an answer, he chose to not comment on the fact that it was seven in the morning, and they both should be asleep after a night of crime fighting.

Yet, Bruce was grateful for Barry’s timing, it had been 45 days since he last came, and it meant that Clark and he hadn’t met. It sounded selfish to think that way, because it seemed like he was hiding Clark for himself, and he wasn’t, he was not. He was just helping him.

(Oh sinner, don’t lie to yourself.)

“I have been busy, and I even cut my hair!” Barry was all energy, muttering here and there to himself, Bruce knew it was a distraction tactic, he felt the need to fill the silence because he did not like it. It made his bones and his mind itch.

Bruce moved towards his cowl, laying a few tables to his left, it needed to be repaired after the sustained damage it got during his last mission, busting a drug trafficking ring thanks to his undercover as Matches Malone. Barry moved with him, whispering statistics and possible upgrades for his suit. Bruce snorted in his mind when he heard, _but not pointy ears, red ears are not nice._

“I see you two are spending quality time together.” Diana said as she walked from the stairs on the right, and the small part of him that was _Bruce Wayne_ , the one attracted to beautiful things, felt breathless at her sight, she looked as impeccable as always.

Barry waved at her before moving towards the black sofa near the wall glass, Bruce put it there after many nights with Clark trying to sit comfortably on the chairs in the Cave, Clark had not said anything, but he hadn’t stop beaming and trying to hug Bruce for a whole day.

As Barry sat on the sofa, taking half of the space, Bruce tried to stave off the feeling of anger that surged through him, _it belongs to Clark_ , he thought, and it was irrational to think that Clark would get bothered if someone sat on it.

Diana walked towards him, breaking his state on Barry to look at her, and laid a hand on the cowl in his hands, she drummed her fingers against it and put her other hand on his shoulder, and Bruce knew this was the prelude to an interrogation he would not like. She always tapped her fingers against a surface when she wanted to interrogate him.

“I don’t see him today.” She smiled; he didn’t feel comforted by it.

“He decided to accompany Alfred to the city. Alfred says the best stuff is bought in the morning.”

“I’m surprised you let him go.”

“I’m not his jailer; he can go wherever he wants.”

“That is not the impression I got, you sure hold him close to your chest.” Bruce glanced at her but didn’t dignify her words with an answer. “He is good for you.”

“Don’t push Diana.” Diana’s smile changed, showing her white teeth as a present to him, it was her feral smile, the one that yelled danger. Bruce knew she was trying to help in her own way, but it was not needed.

Bruce left the cowl on the table and shrugged Diana off, he could fix that later or tell Alfred to do it, he was not going to stay in here and get interrogated. He moved towards the left and stared at the vials of blood he had. He could ask Barry for his insight on Clark’s blood, but as he turned to look at Barry he could see the curiosity bubbling on his face, he was going to ask about whom they were talking, ask about _Clark_ , and he didn’t need that right now, Clark was not ready.

(Is it him the one not ready? You tasted his light and now you can’t get enough of it.

The betrayers always end up wanting more. You’re not different.)

Bruce frowned as he moved back to the main computer, he would work on the information he got and when they weren’t around bothering him, he would keep examining Clark’s blood, he was still figuring out the mix of cells, so far he only had perceived a change in the red blood cells, that it could be attributed to the kryptonians no needing oxygen to breath.

He heard Diana asking to spar with Barry behind him, it would distract them for a while and he could work in silence, as much as silence he could have when Barry was already groaning for being thrown around as Diana told him that it was important to know how to fight, not only throw punches at super speed.

“Bruce! Alfred took me to a Latin American market and we bought all sort of fruits.” Bruce internally froze as he heard Clark talking from the beginning of the stairs. It had slipped his mind that Clark would want to talk as soon as he returned; since it was his first time leaving the house since he arrived. “He even said he could make an ice cream I could eat!” Clark had proven to be bottomless pit; however Alfred was happy someone finally was eating the food he made.

From the corner of his eyes, he could see Diana smiling like a shark as she threw Barry on the mat once more, he also could see Barry looking with curiosity towards the stairs as he stood up from the floor, they both moved forward.

“Bruce?” Clark repeated after he didn’t hear an answer and finished walking down the stairs. “Oh! Sorry if I’m interrupting,” Clark commented as soon as he saw Diana and Barry.

“You’re not interrupting, here, meet Barry Allen.” Diana pointed towards Barry with her hand. “He’s part of the group we are building.”

(The disciple finally meets his Lord.)

“Group?”

“Bruce didn’t tell you?” Bruce wasn’t fooled by Diana’s surprised tone; she was playing her cards very good. “We are building a team of superheroes; Bruce felt the need after you passed away.” Bruce didn’t tell him about the last part, but now Clark would fuss over it.

Bruce ignored Barry gasping, no doubt making the connection about Clark’s identity, yet he only had eyes for Clark’s almost imperceptible flinch and consecutive growing smile as he turned towards Bruce, it was uncomfortable for him to look at Clark because it made him feel like he was staring at ray of sunshine. Bruce’s gut clenched as Clark moved close to him, no doubt wanting to hug him, but refraining because they had company and finally settling for squeezing his arm.

(His eyes are made of stardust. We’re not worthy.)

“He is Superman. You’re Superman,” Barry babbled as his hands moved at a speed that Bruce could not catch, but he had not doubt the other two could, “and you’re not dead.”

“Yes, I am, and not, I’m not dead anymore.”

“Oh my god, this got even better. You know? I have been designing my suit after yours. Of course, not like yours because the cape doesn’t work for me—” Clark laughed delighted; it wasn’t a surprise he was already fond of Barry. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’m Clark Kent since no one introduced me, and if it isn’t rude of me, are you like Diana and me or like Bruce?”

“Neither! I’m what the Government calls a metahuman, a human that got superpowers.”

Bruce ignored the flare of jealousy as Clark smiled at Barry and Diana, there wasn’t any space for Bruce to feel that, Clark wasn’t his, he tried to repeat himself that as he saw Barry beaming at Clark and he beaming back. Clark wasn’t _his_.

(But nothing stops you from wanting it. Nothing stops us from wanting him.)

Bruce frowned and looked back to the computer, he hadn’t moved from the chair, and it gave him an escape. He didn’t want to look at Clark smiling at others.

“Bruce,” he looked to the side and found Clark smiling softly, hips resting on the table’s edge. “I came here to ask you if you wanted a smoothie.” He knew Alfred and him would notice he didn’t eat so he nodded, if he didn’t agree they would pester him and together they were incredibly persistent. “I’ll go get it then.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, I’ll go,” Bruce countered glancing at Diana, he didn’t want her putting ideas in Clark’s mind or be left with Barry asking all sort of questions about Superman. “I have to talk with Alfred.”

Clark waved towards Barry and Diana and walked upstairs, Bruce followed him silently and thought he would be safe and no one would hound him no more. Yet, Bruce should have known nothing was easy for him because as they got to the house, Clark turned around.

“Bruce,” he whispered and Bruce caught the awed tone he didn’t want. “I—”

“Save it Clark, you don’t have to say anything,” his tone was harsh, but Clark’s expression didn’t falter, he kept the same soft smile Bruce hated because it was pure and it filled a part of his soul he didn’t want Clark to fill.

(Holy.)

Clark didn’t open his mouth, only moved forward and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist, hiding his face in the crook of Bruce’s neck, his eyelashes tickling Bruce’s neck. He didn’t move to hug Clark, but stayed calm as he let himself be held.

“Thank you.” Clark whispered against his neck after a while, voice incredibly fond. “No one is going to see us here, you can let go.” He added slightly amused.

Bruce grunted as he moved one arm until it surrounded Clark, he squeezed and proceeded to let Clark go, but he found himself being held more tightly.

“Please.” Clark sounded weary as if the energy he had now had vanished. Bruce stilled, if a hug could soothe him, he wasn’t going to deny him.

(Anything he wants. We would give everything we have, it’s the least thing we could do.)

.

Bruce found himself trying to work with a fidgeting Superman, Clark was supposed to be resting on the black sofa reading the Danish version of The Little Prince.

Clark had found an immense inclination towards reading the non-English versions of books, claiming that it wasn't easy to buy them with his salary since he didn't have much time anyways. Normally, Clark wouldn’t move or talk while reading and Bruce enjoyed the silent company even if he didn't voice it, but today Clark was restless and it was distracting to Bruce.

“Say what you have to say,” he grunted as he typed.

He heard a sigh before Clark started talking. “Don’t you think I’m hiding?” He stopped typing, and Clark had learnt to read that as an _elaborate further_. “It has been months since I returned and I haven’t been trying to get back, sure, I try to soak in the sun everyday but...” Clark sighed once more as he trailed off.

“Have your powers returned?”

“Huh? None of the ones I previously told you have come back, but I have been getting my enhanced vision back and I have gotten better controlling my strength and fly.”

“Then you’re not fit to go and save the world.”

“But I am useless!”

“Clark,” Bruce paused almost shaking with disbelief, how Clark could think he was useless, if he had given everything and they had repaid him with killing him. “You’re not useless.”

“I—”

“Do you truly feel ready?” He whirled on the chair and faced Clark, who was biting his lower lip and staring at the book on his lap. “Your invulnerability is not even fully back yet.”

“I— I don’t feel ready yet,” Clark admitted, legs moving until he could wrap his arms around them, “I just don’t want you— anyone, to think I’m hiding.” Clark added as a slow blush creep on his face.

“I don’t think you’re hiding, you died and now you’re making sure you’re fit enough to go back. You’re not the only one in danger if you go out in your state.” Clark knew Bruce was right, and he didn’t feel like going out as Superman, not yet, even if he had his powers he still didn’t feel like himself, but he didn't want to disappoint Bruce. “Clark—”

“Bruce!” The particular sound of Barry arriving interrupted them, Bruce tried to not glare at Barry, but he knew he wasn’t successful. “Huh? I’m interrupting something?”

“No! We were just talking.” Clark replied with a strained smile.

“Oh Clark! I didn’t see you there. Hello!” Barry waved as Bruce frowned, but thought it would be better like that, they were going on a path that he didn't like.

(It’s daunting, isn’t it? Wanting to be his Mary Magdalene when you chose to be his Judas.

However, you already gave out your kiss. You cannot take it back.)

“What do you want Barry?”

“I was on the bridge between Central and Keystone City and I think I saw the man you showed to me.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed at Barry’s words while Clark asked confused about the man, Bruce ignored them both as he turned around and began hacking into Central City’s security system. He registered in the back of his mind, the sound of footsteps coming closer and the quiet conversation about the man Barry was talking, but he ignored it, he had more important matters.

After fifteen minutes. Bruce found the footage and played it, he had to zoom it, but it was definitely Curry, swimming close to the surface as a pair of sharks followed him. He pondered about the reason why Curry would let himself be spotted when it wasn't winter yet, was he running from the sharks? It didn't seem like it, but they still didn’t have much information on Curry.

“I could have given you the access way faster, and legally.” Bruce grunted as he heard Clark laughing. “Since you know, I work for the Central City’s police department.”

“You do? What do you do there?”

“I’m a police scientist.”

“Then you can help Bruce!”

Bruce could not stave off the feeling of anger before it surged through him as he heard Clark explaining about Bruce recollecting his blood and their questions about his resurrection; he could decipher Clark’s biology by himself, he didn’t need any help! He breathed trying to calm himself. It would do no good if he lashed out right now.

(Let’s not lie to ourselves, it’s the want what angers you. You want him whole, not just a piece.

But it’s not possible; he was made to be shared.

You cannot swallow his light. It would eat you from the inside.)

“Bruce?” He flinched almost imperceptibly at the feeling of Clark touching his arm to call his attention, but it was noticed by Clark, who removed his hand and looked apologetic. “I just wanted to ask you if it would be fine to show Barry the blood samples.”

He didn’t reply as he stood up and walked towards the farthest wall, where a table laid with all kind of medical instruments and grabbed the box that held the test tubes filled with Clark’s blood. He opened it and pulled out one of the tubes, then gestured Barry to approach and gave it to him.

“You can use the equipment I have, but this cannot leave the house. If you need other instruments say it to Alfred and he’ll get it.” He had to distance himself, he was getting attached to Clark and it was not good because they would not live together all the time. “I only found differences on the blood cells so far. Any doubts you have you can ask Clark.”

Bruce ignored Clark’s sad expression as he went back to investigate what Curry was doing and how he would be approached now, since Diana still wanted him on the team. It would be better this way.

Clark felt as if he had done something wrong. Bruce hadn’t said anything, but it wasn’t needed as he had been distant. He didn’t stay for long before going to Wayne Enterprises and when he got back he stayed as minimum as possible in the Cave before going out. It had gotten lonely, he could not shadow Alfred all the time, Diana was hardly around and he still felt out of place with her, now more since she was working on making the Justice League with Bruce while he laid there doing nothing, and Barry came late and he had to work on his blood samples.

He hadn’t been getting much sleep, not between having nightmares about being dying in his coffin and now having nightmares about losing Bruce. He missed Bruce, he missed spending time with him, even if it was only sitting while the other worked, not words exchanged. It made him happy, and now he had lost it. He wondered if it was because he told Barry about the blood samples, and what he could do to fix it.

“Master Clark, the food is ready.”

“I’m not hungry Alfred, sorry.” He had been watching the news, a charity where Bruce was attended being covered, he looked dashing in his suit, lazy smile plastered on his face as he winked at the public, laughing about something while talking about donating money for the children. He felt jealous, he wanted Bruce to smile at him, truly smile at him, not the fake smile he put on while he was out there being _Bruce Wayne_.

“You can hound him when he arrives, meanwhile you can eat. I don’t need one more person not eating their three meals.” Clark wasn’t surprised that Alfred caught on his issue with Bruce, nothing got past him, but it wouldn’t be a surprise since he raised Bruce. “Don’t let him evade you; God knows that child needs someone like you in his life.”

Clark blushed and tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at what felt like a blessing from Alfred, he wasn’t— no, he couldn’t lie to himself, but it didn’t matter because Bruce didn’t feel the same and he was happy with being friends only. He just wanted to be in Bruce’s life.

He did as Alfred said, he ate his lunch, a bowl of tuna and rice with a big serving of the safe guava ice cream Alfred made for him, and sat on the living room to wait for Bruce, he tried to read Metamorphoses, but he kept getting distracted as he began hearing some far away noises, it seemed that his hearing was coming back slowly, like his enhanced vision.

He took a few breaths as he heard Bruce pulling in, he kept tracks of the almost silent footsteps and the rhythm of Bruce’s breathing, he didn’t sound drunk. He thought about standing up, but it could be taken as a challenge and he didn’t want to scare Bruce. He heard as Bruce hanged his jacket and loosened his tie, he licked his lips and waited for Bruce to appear.

It didn’t take long before Bruce walked through the living room, decided to keep ignoring Clark, but he wouldn’t succeed.

“I want to apologize,” Clark whispered from his spot on the sofa, halting Bruce. “It seems like I crossed a line with you and I’m sorry, you have opened your home and given me company and I disrespected you.” Clark stared at Bruce; he would do anything to get him back.

Bruce stayed still, not saying a word, as he processed Clark’s word, a pair of minutes passed between them before Bruce moved to face him, his expression not giving anything away.

“It isn’t like that. You haven’t crossed any line; I just realized that you can’t be here forever.”

“Do you want me to go?” Bruce inhaled, realizing he had expressed himself poorly.

“What I meant is that you will want to go back to your life and...” Bruce cut himself off as Clark stood up, smile growing on his face. “What are you doing?”

Clark grinned as he understood what Bruce was trying and failing to explain, he was scared because he was getting too attached and he worried that once Clark wanted to go back to being Clark Kent or whoever he would go back to, he would be out of Bruce’s life, and he didn’t want the heartbreak.

“Bruce.” He paused as he stood up mere centimeters in front of Bruce. “I’m not going to be out of your life, not even if I leave this house tomorrow. I— I care about you.” He slowly raised his right hand and rested it against Bruce’s neck, thumb caressing his jaw line.

Bruce stilled himself, but didn’t flinch or backed off, he only looked into Clark’s eyes, but to Clark it was like he was talking into his soul, Bruce’s eyes were filled with all the emotions he didn’t say.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered, voice trembling at the prospect of it. “I want to kiss you.”

Bruce nodded slowly as Clark closed the space between them, it was a press of lips at first, just wanting to feel all of Bruce, the way he smelled, like the forest at night and how soft his lips were, before Bruce deepened their kiss with a hand on Clark’s nape and the other hand on his lower back. Clark moaned at the press of their bodies, and moved his other hand until he was holding Bruce’s face between his hands. They kissed for a few seconds before separating, not wanting to turn their first kiss into a heated one.

“I don’t think I’m the person you want.”

“Don’t belittle yourself. I chose you, and you have to at least respect my feelings.”

“I’m not easy to love.”

“I don’t want easy, I want _you_.” Clark pecked him on the lips then pressed their foreheads together, letting himself bask in Bruce, in his smell and how his hands felt holding him, in the way their bodies coupled like they were made for each other.

“What about Lois?”

“Lois— I will always love Lois in some way, she was the first person I fell in love with, but we both moved on.” He kissed Bruce deeply, trying to convey his feelings; he wanted Bruce to understand what he wasn’t saying, about how he was falling in love with Bruce. “I want to be with you Bruce, please, don’t push me away.”

“I understand, but I have to go on patrol,” Bruce whispered as he tightened his arms around Clark.

“It’s all right; we don’t have to rush anything.” He kissed Bruce once more before releasing him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.””

Bruce threw a punch to the air as he thought about the last week, he and Clark had taken it slow as he said, their relationship had not changed too much, they spent their time on the house together quietly, doing their respective things as always, but now there was more touching.

Clark was a tactile person, he liked to peck Bruce on the lips before Bruce left for work, he liked to sit on Bruce’s lap and kiss for a while and he liked to snuggle with Bruce when he worked on the sofa while Clark read or watched the television on low volume. He said it was because touching made him feel more in connection with Bruce.

He had expected to find himself claustrophobic with all the attention, but being with Clark was freeing, he had seen Bruce at his worst and not felt disgusted, he accepted Bruce with all he got, even with his _issues_ , and he understood how important the mission was to Bruce. He knew all of this and he still had decided to stay.

(It’s strange, isn’t it? Being the object of devout of a God.

We don’t think we deserve him, but now that he has given himself to us we’re not going to let him go. He needs to be protected too.)

“Bruce?’ His punch went halfway as he found Barry staring at him. “Is Clark around?”

“He’s upstairs.” _Drowning himself in ice cream_ , he didn't say.

“Good. Do you think he’s hearing us?”

Bruce frowned as Barry whispered, what could Barry say that Clark should not be hearing? He hadn’t commented on anything about their progress on his biology, unless Barry found an issue with it and he wanted to talk with Bruce first.

“I don’t think he is hearing us.” Clark had told him about his hearing returning, but it didn't seem to be fully back yet and he doubted Clark spied on others. “What did you found?”

“The platelets in his blood seem to be stronger than the ones found in humans, the reason why is not easy to make Clark bleed even with kryptonite. I also found he has not blood type, at least not a human one and his body rejects our blood.” Bruce nodded; it was congruent with what they had found so far. “I even cut a part of his skin and it didn’t deteriorate or got rotten.”

Bruce growled at Barry’s words, how he dared to harm Clark? When it had happened and how he didn’t notice a cut on his skin, and where had Barry kept the skin sample? If he defied him and took it out the Cave, he would maim him.

(The disciple has been tainted.)

“Before you punch me or worse, I got Clark’s permission and I put it on the lead box once I finished using all the blood samples. I don’t know how to get rid of it, it hasn’t decayed and I don’t think it will.” Bruce frowned; he would need to get the kryptonite out and burn the patch of skin and see if it burned. “I have been making observations, and I think Clark can’t age.”

“What?” He snarled.

“His body and cells are not aging; his body doesn’t enter a state of decay, not even after he died. There’s also the fact that there is something strange in his blood, it’s like he holds other’s people cells inside him. That might be the reason why his blood is not compatible with ours.”

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. I found about it the first week examining his blood, but I had to be sure, that’s why I asked for a patch of skin and I made more examinations, needing to be sure, and every test I made gave the same result.” Bruce exhaled loudly; this was more than what they thought they would find. “I thought it should be you the one telling him what I found.” He nodded gratefully at Barry, he would need to think about how to breach the subject with Clark and they would need to make a plan to get in the ship. It would have more explanations for sure.

Barry sighed as he pulled out a small notebook from his jacket, and showed it to Bruce, inside there was all the notes he had taken on the differences he noticed between Clark’s blood and human blood, what he had noticed about Clark’s skin and all the theories he had thanks to Clark’s explanation of what he knew about the kryptonian race. They talked for half an hour before Bruce had to go out for patrol.

.

Bruce didn’t sleep for long, and he was grateful he hadn’t shared a bed with Clark yet. Because _Bruce Wayne_ had conquests, but Clark was much more than that and inviting him to just sleep would mean something, something he wasn’t ready to admit.

After he returned from patrol, he took a shower and meditated about what was the best course of action, about how to talk it with Clark, about how to infiltrate the ship or ask Clark to request permission and about how he had to change his plans if Superman went bad, would he need to bury his body with kryptonite?

He woke up and went to kitchen, where Alfred had left a plate of toasts with scrambled eggs, smoked salmon and asparagus on top. _Alfred must be happy with me_ , he thought. Alfred had also left his pills bottles, a clear message. He took them; he had promised himself to at least not purposely forget taking his pills. He couldn’t afford to be distracted because of withdrawal symptoms, Clark would be on him the moment it happened and Diana would hound him.

After he ate, he decided to talk with Clark, he found him sitting on the edge of the deck basking in the sun. Bruce stood near the entrance, watching him, Clark was a beautiful person inside and out without question, and here under the sun he glowed, he was lucky that Clark chose to be with him.

(If we were chosen, we have to uphold the title. We have to make him proud.)

“I know you’re there, come join me,” Clark said without turning, voice tinged with laughter.

Bruce didn’t comment as he walked towards Clark and sat next to him, crossing his legs as Clark immediately closed the distance between them, pecking him on the cheek and whispering a soft good day before snuggling with Bruce, legs submerged in the lake water.

“I need to talk with you,” he murmured after minutes of silent company. Clark hummed nervously, wondering about what Bruce would want to talk with him. “First, I want to know why you let Barry harm you and how he cut a patch of your skin. I didn’t give him any kryptonite.”

“It wasn’t needed, my invulnerability is not back yet and we tried until the skin gave away. Barry said he needed it to investigate further and to have the correct information. I didn’t find issue with it.”

“You can’t just let anyone have a piece of you because they ask,” he growled, ignoring the fact that Clark said that they had tried until Clark was harmed, he definitely would see that Barry suffered for not consulting it with Bruce first.

“Barry is not anyone and he said he would not take any of my samples out of the house.” Bruce shook his head; Clark couldn’t trust anyone only because they said so. “Don’t be mad. I promise to be more careful, but if there is going to be a Justice League you have to trust them to do the right thing.”

Bruce grunted as he moved his hands to pat Clark’s body looking for something, and Clark knew what it was as he directed Bruce’s hands towards his right hip. Bruce pulled Clark’s t-shirt up and rubbed his right thumb against the skin, still slightly angered at the fact that Barry had cut him. Clark grabbed his hand and intertwined their fingers, directing a smile at Bruce.

“What else did you need to talk?”

“Barry found something important about your biology.” Clark perked up, interested, yet worried at the fact that Barry chose Bruce as the one that needed to say it to him. “It appears that your body holds other’s people cells in it, your DNA it’s a mix of diverse DNA, we don’t know if it’s a kryptonian thing or your body has mutated because of the yellow sun. It also means that your blood it’s not compatible with ours.” Clark nodded, it didn’t sound so bad, apart from the fact that his body held strange DNA inside his own DNA. “We also found that you’re not aging.”

“Whaa—” Clark didn’t finish his sentence as the full impact of Bruce’s words hit him.

Clark stood up quickly, needing space to breath, but a wave of dizziness hit him making him almost fall in the water if it wasn’t for Bruce grabbing him by the waist, he had stood up at the same moment, worried about Clark doing something rash. He directed Clark towards the beach style chairs he had on the deck and tried to make him sit on it, but Clark didn’t want to let him go, so he sat on the chair and made Clark sit on his lap.

As soon as they were accommodated, Clark put his arms around Bruce’s neck and snuggled to it, breath erratic. Bruce held him in one arm, hand resting on the right hip as he moved it in soothing patterns and with the other hand he cradled Clark’s face.

“Talk to me,” Bruce murmured as Clark took a few breaths.

“I knew I would have to bury mom, but I don’t want to live in a world without Lois and you. I’m not ready to lose you.” Clark sobbed, clearly shaken. “I don’t want to live forever! Why I have to be like this! Why can’t I be normal?” Bruce looked at the distraught Clark in his arms; he didn’t like seeing Clark like this.

(We have failed; we cannot protect him if he outlives us for long. We will have to trust the Goddess.)

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Bruce said as he hugged Clark tighter.  “You’re perfect,” he whispered against Clark’s hair.

Neither of them said a word as Clark tried to calm himself in Bruce’s arms, light tremors going through Clark’s body as Bruce kept drawing patterns on his hip. Clark breathed in as he turned to look at Bruce’s face, marveled at the fact that Bruce was willing to sacrifice his need for space to comfort him. _I want you so much it hurts, I don’t want to lose you,_ was the thought that circulated through both of their minds.

A current of distress and fondness ran through Clark, and he acted on it. He pushed Bruce’s arms out of the way as he moved to straddle Bruce, hands going to his face as he kissed Bruce desperately. Bruce felt shocked for a second before moving to hold Clark by his hips and return the kiss fervently. The kiss was different than the others kiss they shared, this kiss conveyed all the raw emotions they didn’t say.

Clark grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled the shirt out of his body, then pulled out Bruce’s t-shirt, wanting to feel Bruce’s skin without barriers between them. Bruce went with the motion, light-headed at the fact that he was holding Clark in his arms, and he was in the middle of sucking a mark on Clark’s neck when he realized what was happening; Clark was trying to bury himself in sex, thinking it would make him feel better. He backed off as Clark whined and grinded their hips together, eliciting a moan from Bruce.

(We cannot take him in this state, we cannot throw away the trust he has given us.)

“Clark,” he whispered soothingly as he petted Clark to calm him. “You don’t truly want it right now, you want to enjoy our first time and like this you won’t enjoy it.” Clark stopped his movements and stared at Bruce, he looked lost.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Clark repeated as he moved to nuzzle Bruce’s neck, his voice sounding distraught. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“It’s all right. You will be fine, we will be fine.” Bruce moved Clark once more until he was in his previous position, cradled against Bruce’s body, and kissed Clark’s hair softly looking to calm him.

He would need to make new contingencies plans; he would make sure Clark was protected no matter what.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my longest fic ever, hope you liked it!  
> Any of you can reach me [here](http://kalelofkrypton.tumblr.com/), I would be happy to talk!


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